


Strychnine

by blindPersecutor



Category: Caduceus | Trauma Center Series
Genre: Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-04
Updated: 2017-08-03
Packaged: 2018-12-10 22:46:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11701431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blindPersecutor/pseuds/blindPersecutor
Summary: Inspired by the fanfiction Under Wraps. Nozomi remembers an incident from Delphi.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Delphi Under Wraps](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/312867) by PreseatheKitsune. 



When Navel's phone rang in the middle of the night, he assumed it was his employers.

"What is it?" His eyes, heavy with sleep, drifted shut as he waited for the other to speak. This was highly unusual- normally he got his assignments during the day, when he was alert and ready to carry them out. What reason could they have for calling him so early?

"Hello." His eyes opened at Weaver's voice. Something seemed off about it. He couldn't quite place his finger on it- but he knew her well enough to pick up on it. This was even stranger than Delphi calling him in the middle of the night.

"...Doctor?" Navel drew his breath in and let it out in a long sigh, tinged with exasperation from the rude awakening. "We've got work in-" He pulled the phone away and checked the time before continuing. "-Four hours. Why are you waking me up?" The mattress groaned as he stirred, laying on his side. He heard a quiet sigh on the other end.

"To talk." There was a faraway quality to her voice- He was starting to realize something was off; she spoke in a measured, emotionless way, but her voice shook slightly just then. The haze of sleep began to dissipate.

"I'm waiting for you to stop beating around the bush and tell me while you called," he said quietly. "I need to get back to sleep. What's so important?"

"Just wanted to hear your voice," Weaver replied. "Stay up with me." 

"Work in four hours," he reminded her listlessly. His eyes drifted shut as he spoke, too heavy to keep open. "Weaver, you have five seconds to tell me what's up." It wasn't like her to beat around the bush; usually she'd have a good reason and have told him by now. 

"The... Ah..." The other's voice faded away for a moment before coming back with a weak, humorless laugh. "The reporter. Had a nightmare about the reporter. Bad one." He paused, letting her words sink in. They hadn't spoken of him at all since the incident had occurred.

"I'll be there in twenty or twenty five minutes," he told her. "Hold tight." He ended the call as he stood, then snapped the flip phone shut and headed over to the dresser. Nozomi hadn't spoken of that reporter since the incident. It was hard to feel sympathy towards him. What happened was his own damn fault, he shouldn't have gone snooping. Navel dragged a shirt blindly out of the drawer, pulling on a pair of pants.

He walked over to the bathroom, shutting one eye as he flicked the lightswitch. Bright lights flickered on above the mirror and were reflected dully on the gray plastic of the phone, which rested on the edge of the sink. He turned the cold tap on; water gurgled into the sink, chilling his hands as he dipped them in. The Delphi agent exhaled as he splashed the water on his face, the icy shock jolting him awake.

That was going to have to be good enough.

He dried his face with the towel haphazardly flung over the top of the shower door, grabbed the phone, then shut the bathroom light off. A pair of scuffed white sneakers were waiting by the front door; the car keys were dangling from a magnetic hook on the side of the fridge. He grabbed the keys as he walked by, put the shoes on, and finally left.

The cool night air invigorated him further as he walked over to the car. Wispy clouds skidded over the waxing moon; a few stars were visible in the abyssal sky. It was a nice sight, but there was no time to admire it. He got into the car and thrust the key into the ignition, twisting it brusquely. It sprang to life with a satisfying purr; its headlights cast his home in a stark light. The burner phone came to rest in the cupholder with a clatter. The driver put his seatbelt on and carefully backed into the silent road, heading south- to the coast of Santa Balboa.

The apartment complex was silent, almost eerie. Rows of cars stood guard in the parking lot, and the guard in the lobby watched him, guarded, as he walked in. He was used to people milling around and chatting with the day person, getting tidbits of gossip or exchanging news. It felt almost wrong, now.

"Visiting Ms. Weaver," he explained quickly. "Not feeling well." Before the other could speak, he headed to the stairs and bounded up the first flight. His steps grew quieter as he counted the numbers off. 101, 102, 103... All the way to 112.

As Navel approached her apartment, he heard a screaming kettle mix with soft strains of a tv program- inconsequential, only there to provide background noise. He rapped quickly on the door, announcing himself with a soft, tired 'I'm here.' She looked haggard when she opened the door, exhausted from the horrible dream. 

"...Come in." She stepped aside, letting him enter her apartment. "I appreciate you coming over on such short notice," she said quietly as she walked to the kitchenette. She took the kettle off and filled two mugs with steaming water, adding two bags of earl gray to steep.

"You needed it," he answered shortly. He took a seat on the couch, making himself comfortable. He hooked his arm over the back and turned to look at her, noticing how she kept her eyes averted, fixated on the tea as she carried it over. "It must have been bad for you to call me at three in the morning." He was overly curious about the nightmare, wondering what the Hell has spooked her so bad that she felt calling him was her best bet. He could only imagine what they had done to her after they'd found out. His hands curled around his mug as she offered it to him, welcome warmth seeping into cool, slightly stiff fingers. 

"I never told you what happened that night," she began. She sat, putting her tea on the coffee table, hands clasped loosely in her lap. There was an alien hesitance to her voice, almost a weakness. It was as if the nightmare had broken her down and left this behind. All Navel knew was that when he had picked her up a couple days after she had been quieter and more compliant. No smart remarks or joking with him for a while- she had been distant. "You've heard of the toxin strychnine..." Her voice trailed off, and he took the opportunity to answer.

"Nasty stuff. Why?"

"They had found the reporter, taken him, and used strychnine on him." She swallowed thickly, her eyes fixated on the tea.


	2. Chapter 2

Nozomi thought she had been in the clear after that little debacle.

Hell, she couldn't have known that Delphi had eyes all over. 

"Weaver." She glanced up, closing the Manila folder she had as she did. "You're to come with us." She eyed the two agents, placing the file back into the cabinet. 

"Very well." The two flanked her as she walked out of the room- what is this, why this security? A cold chill raced down her spine, making her shiver. Something didn't feel right. Her shoulders tensed as they walked through the cold, sterile halls, the stark lighting above heightening the pervasive feeling of wrongness. At length the trio came to a door, opening it to a scene that took a moment to process.

The reporter was kneeling in a bare room, metal underfoot and an uncomfortable chill in the air. Nozomi wrapped her arms around herself, trying to protect herself from the cold. A woman stood beside him, holding a clear syringe, uncapped.

"It was reported that you operated on this man," she intoned. "Going against our code," she spat, "is of dire consequences. As you sought to save this man, you will witness what you caused by trying to be one of those wretched doctors." The fear was palpable in the reporter's eyes; Nozomi found herself steadfastly avoiding them. She was only brought back when the man let out a cry as the needle stabbed into his arm, depositing its payload. 

There was no explanation as they walked out- nothing- just the click of a door and heavy silence, dragging out for several minutes. She opened her mouth to speak then thought better of it. She wasn't entirely sure he'd understand English, but knew he'd speak Japanese.

"...You're the reporter." She knelt beside him, but a good distance away from him. Out of arm's reach, in case he lurched forward. "I'm sorry." She hesitated... What could she say to him? 'Hey, sorry, I healed you so you're probably going to die horribly tonight.' "I'm Weaver Nozo-"

"Don't play games with me," he spat, a gleam of fear bright in his eye. "You're the devil doctor! Kimishima Naomi. Everyone knows about you ."

"...Kimishima Naomi," she conceded. "I apologize for trying to trick you." It wouldn't matter by tomorrow anyways. "You?"

"Makurami Hiroto," he answered grudgingly. "What the Hell did they stick in me?"

"I don't know," she admitted. "I can assure you everything will be okay. It's my fault that you're on this place, and I intend to get you through the night." A lead weight settled in her stomach. A cold chill pervaded her body, not entirely from the temperature. That... Was one of the worst lies she'd told. She didn't believe herself and from the suspicious look she received, he didn't, either. Distraction might help. "Are you Okinawan, too?"

"I'm from a village on Hokkaido," he answered. He appeared to relax slightly. "Polar opposites." Ah, she knew how cold and snowy it could get there... "I moved to Sapporo, not too long ago. Job for my magazine." Uncertainty wavered in his eyes. This was his last job, he was sure. He certainly wouldn't be seeing the city again, or the village he'd spent most of his life in.

"I'd like to see it," she said quietly, "but I'm not exactly chomping at the bit to return to Japan. ...Send me a postcard sometime, if you don't hold a grudge after this." He laughed, then winced. 

"The lights are too bright," he grunted softly. "Neck's aching, too." He glanced over at the sound of Nozomi shucking her coat off and folding it as neatly as she could into a cushion, handing it off to him.

"Maybe laying down for a bit will ease your neck pain." She tried to sound casual, noting them as possible symptoms. A minute tic caused his jaw to pulse, his teeth clicking together. He grimaced.

"Damn," he cussed softly, "what'd they put in that thing? Hey, Kimishima, how long do I have left?" The fear was back and stronger than ever; Nozomi laid a reassuring hand on his shoulder. He flinched; she hastily withdrew it.

"Everything is going to be just fine." She hoped he believed it, she didn't believe it herself. "You'll be back to Sapporo by a couple days, I assure you of that." With each brazen lie, the lead weight seemed to get heavier and heavier. Her shoulders tensed up.

"It's a nuisance," he muttered. "What's Okinawa like?"

"A beautiful place," she said softly. "Warm all year round... The oceans are clear, and the coral reefs are a sight to behold. It's better seen in person, my description can't hold a candle to it." She closed her eyes, remembering memories now bittersweet. Clear seas, the triumph of finally reaching the rock she wanted to swim out to, dinners with her parents, growing up in a place she viewed with nostalgia now. The sea air, the cries of gulls... The halcyon sounds were interrupted by an attempt to speak.

"D... K... Ki..." She looked over, meeting his eyes. The ghastly rictus grin didn't reflect in his eyes. Panic swam in their depths, terror trailing it in a murky presence. A muscle twitched in his jaw as he laid there, ineffectually begging for help or something, anything she could do. As she watched, the lockjaw ceased.

"I- I don't, I don't know, what's happening-" His eyes darted around before he landed on her. "I couldn't open my mouth or move my jaw or anything no matter how hard I tried, what the Hell, I don't..." Hiroto babbled on in his distress, looking for all the world as if he was pleading for answers. 

"Take a few deep breaths," she commanded firmly. Hiding behind a tough mask, a doctor in control, was all she could truly do right now. It was unlikely that would be a one-off thing- something proven as it repeated, his eyes squeezing shut as he waited the moment of terror out. Saliva shone on his teeth under the stark lights, making him seem paler than he already was; it cast his face in an even more frightening light. 

On and on, over and over, she assured and reassured him, staying with him and holding his hand as he weathered the lockjaw and rictus sardonicus. It was only when it spread to his other limbs, fingers curled into sickly claws and legs stiff, did she realize exactly what Delphi had done to punish him.

"Strychnine," she hissed in horror. The word sounded like a curse. There was nothing they could do- he'd suffocate. A long, drawn-out death... All for the crimes of trying to get info on the Devil Doctor, becoming entangled in Delphi's work, and being healed. And her? She'd have to witness every minute of it, knowing that ultimately, what she'd done was pointless. Medicine had prolonged his life, only to be ended in one of the most gruesome manners she could think of.

"What-" 

"It doesn't matter." Nothing mattered, he'd be dead in two hours... If he was unlucky, three. Could she continue to lie to his face? Would comfort outweigh giving him the news and letting him come to terms with it? ...She couldn't bring herself to go through with it.

"It's just what they injected you with... Just... Don't dwell on it. Just think of your village, of seeing your friends, of the life you just began in Sapporo," she told Hiroto. A thin thread of panic wove into her words, and she tried to force it down. "Let me worry about that." Could it be a dose low enough that he could survive? ...No, like Delphi would have mercy and just scare the two. She could preform CPR, see if it was a dose that could be weathered. She wracked her brains- but ultimately, nothing came to her. She was reduced to what she'd done before- helpless and hopeless. 

Her reassurances died out as Hiroto's back arched, the doctor watching him silently. When he relaxed, he pled with her, requesting her help; comforting him could only go so far.

"Kimishima-"

"I can't do anything," she finally blurted out. "There's no tools to counteract this, and I don't have anything at my disposal." The chill seemed to pervade her entire being at this point. A sort of makeshift morgue, she thought distantly. Keep him cold and her awake. Make it a little easier on the cleaners while ensuring she'd have a hard time sleeping. She tried to separate herself from the situation but found it was an impossibility. She had sympathized and empathized with him in an attempt to soothe him, and now it was as if she was seeing a distant friend fight for his life. 

"I'm sorry," she repeated softly to him. "There's absolutely nothing to be done."

"Am I going to die?" He sounded shellshocked.

"...I won't let that happen." She couldn't do anything to stop it. The convulsions were becoming more frequent, lasting longer. ...He wouldn't last all that long. Still, maybe she could, maybe that would...

"Hiroto, hold on, let me try-" She was a bit rusty but could remember the procedure. Compressions and checking the airway. Pinching the nose shut, one breath, another breath. She put her all into the CPR- all her determination, all we energy, all her thoughts into making sure he could breathe. Part of her knew she was just prolonging things. The other railed against that, saying she could save him, or help him somehow and ensure he survived... Thirty seconds compression. Two breaths. Thirty seconds compression. A wet crack. The ribs gave way under her hands. Two breaths. Thirty seconds, breathe for him, he won't make it past two hours and we know it. This is prolonging the inevitable.

"It isn't," she hissed in English. She rocked back on her haunches as she began compressions. "I can be a doctor and save him. These sick bastards can't keep me from doing my job. They can't- take away what I am," she said, grunting slightly as she continued the compressions. Better he had broken ribs than was dead. She switched back to Japanese. 

"I won't let these damned reapers take you away," she said. Her words fell on deaf ears as he struggled through his panic and pain, the paralysis and knowledge that she must be lying. When he came back, body relaxing for a blessed moment, his breathing was deep and swift. A hollow ache nested in his torso where the ribs had been broken. "They think they can toy with life and death. I won't let them get away with it. I promised you I'd get you through this and I will, dammit! You're not going to die tonight."

"You mean that?"

"Of course. I swear to you that you'll see the next day." 

"And," she continued to herself in English, "I will ensure no one else comes to the harm that you've come by. Strychnine is agonizing. No one else will know this situation like you do. Not ever." Speaking in English was soothing. It was something she focused more on, allowing her to stay impartial instead of slipping into emotions as she did in Japanese. In English, it was easier to detach. She mechanically continued her efforts to save him.

"...Nn! Stop!" The cry came at the end of a round of CPR. "Stop, fuck, it hurts...!" Nozomi recoiled, looking down at him. They had precious little time to speak. "Kimishima, stop it, oh God..." He wheezed as he spoke, desperately trying to get the words out. "Stop it. Leave me alone. Get away from me, this mess is your fault, you devil!" He spoke the truth. She had caused it- the operation, being foolish enough to think just because her assistant could be trusted not to tell that they wouldn't find out. 

She got up, almost stumbling from numbed legs. She took one careful step back.

Another.

She turned his back to him and sat. She tried to tune out his desperate struggles. She tried to forget how they'd bonded, even if in a shallow way.

She blinked as she felt warmth trickle down her cheeks, wrapping her arms tightly around herself as she hunched over. Her fingers dug into her arms as she breathed in. An errant sob took its opportunity to escape. His nails skittered against the floor, stiff and unfeeling; she curled in on herself. Cloth rasped as he contorted from the toxin, and his teeth met with a loud, harsh click. Without realizing, her thoughts began to spill out of her mouth. She felt like she could keep a grip on things in English. Her emotions wouldn't overwhelm her so readily.

"No, it's not my..." Fault. Objectively, it wasn't. But Delphi was doing her damndest to make her think it was. "I was doing what anyone would have!" She heard ragged gasping behind her and heard his body slump as he relaxed, the toxin's grip gone for a merciful moment. "It's just their sick way of putting the blame on me, and-!" And someone innocent had to suffer! Her teeth clenched. Her hands shook, balled into fists as she had spoken. She didn't dare look back as the convulsions began again- dimly wondering if he'd last two hours or three. "It's not my..." Nozomi's body shook as she gasped, roughly scrubbing at the tears steadily trickling down her face. "I should..." Just face I can't save him. But what if she could have, and given up? She was distantly aware that that was it- reversing such a substantial dose of strychnine would be like trying to reverse cyanide poisoning with no tools and no knowledge. She tried not to focus on the wretched sounds as he tensed, gasped, and convulsed on the floor. The absence of breathing was even worse than hearing his shoes scuffle against the floor as his legs struck out or bent up or his back arched and cracked distantly. In her mind's eye, she could see the demented smile and fear-stricken eyes, the sweat that began to pop out on his skin. She put her hands over her ears and shook her head.

"Doctor..." That was his last word, two and a half hours in. A single moment of begging her, as if she could save him. It took all her self control to not turn around. The sounds of his convulsions would remain burned into her memory, just as this room would visit her at night, in the depths of sleep.

She spent the night with the dead man behind her, never sleeping.


	3. Chapter 3

"And I stayed in there all night. With Hiroto," she finished. She shuddered, finally reaching for her cooling tea. The rebelling had taken quite a while. "Sometimes I see the room and... I can't breathe, just like him. I'm returned to that moment in time with him. My heart beats much faster than it should and I feel dizzy, like I'm not getting enough breath," she confessed. "I've been having nightmares since it happened." Maybe that explained the quiet.

He averted his eyes now. His stomach knotted up, revulsion and guilt overtaking him. The truth was he had been the one to report it. Loyalty to the organization has easily won out, and his ethics came second. She had to learn to follow the rules, and the organization's morals were his morals- her trying to heal a reporter was beyond the pale for them. He slipped an arm over her shoulder and pulled her close, noticing how she tended a moment before relaxing.

"That's rough," he said softly. Damn them. He was to blame for this one. He thought they'd dock her pay or something, not poison someone and leave her alone with the corpse. "I'm sorry, Weaver. I'll stay with you for the rest of the night and call you in. You could have told me earlier, I could have helped sooner..."

"No," she said softly, "I can't afford to show weakness or take a day. I can't show Delphi that they managed to beat me." It was more of a personal pride thing, along with defense. If she showed weakness, the sharks might smell blood in the water and manipulate her. She finally picked her tea up, looking into the depths of it. "...Thank you for staying until we have to go." 

Of course I would, it's my fault.

"You're welcome, Nozomi. Let's get some sleep."


End file.
